


Someone's son

by boleyn13



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath, Bad conscience, Civil War Team Iron Man, Gen, Howard Loves Tony, Nightmares, Not A Fix-It, Not Steve Friendly, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9628931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boleyn13/pseuds/boleyn13
Summary: Every night when Steve closes his eyes Howard comes to him and accuses him of killing his son





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody,
> 
> So this is just something I needed to get out. There is so much talk about Steve not caring that Bucky killed his friend, because Howard was his friend. 
> 
> I couldn't stop thinking about something - Tony is Howard's child. Steve could have easily killed his friend's son and I wanted Howard to confront him about that. No matter how crappy their relationship was - Tony is Howard's son and Steve doesn't care.
> 
> So yeah, this is kinda dark
> 
> Have fun :)

The entire building had collapsed. Smoke and dust filled what was left of the rooms and Steve looked around helplessly. What had happened? He couldn’t remember the walls coming down or the fight that might have caused this.

Looking around Steve had the impression that his surroundings got darker by the second, like all light was being sucked from the rooms. Were there still people in here? Steve didn’t know. He had no idea how he had got here in the first place or if he had been alone?

That didn’t matter. Now he had to make sure that the place was empty and then find an exit himself. Steve advanced through the dark halls, losing his way immediately. He had never been here before, but the place nevertheless seemed familiar. Not a soul to be seen and Steve was about to give up his search when a quiet, gut-wrenching sound reached his ears.

Steve stopped dead in his tracks and concentrated on it. A sob. A whimper. Hard to define. Somebody had to be in immense pain.

Instantly Steve sped up his steps, heading into the direction where the sobs were coming from. A single voice. Male. Steve urged himself to hurry up, rubble was still gushing from the ceiling. The remaining structure of the building was unstable, Steve had to get that person out of here.

After rushing around another corner Steve stopped dead in his tracks. The room in front of him was so dark that Steve couldn’t tell where the floor met the walls or where the walls turned into the ceiling. Nothing but darkness. In the middle of it was a crouching, crooked figure, cradling something in their arms. Steve’s breath got caught when he realised that the man was holding a young child. They had to get out of here, right now.

“Sir, you need…”

It was impossible to finish that sentence when the man let out a sob that was filled with so much horror that Steve wanted to cover his ears. “He killed my son…”

No. No child was going to die here. Not when Steve could still do something. Coming slowly closer Steve felt a feeling of dread rising inside of him and his eyes fell once again on the small body on display. A young boy with a shock of dark hair and a gaping, bleeding hole in his small chest.

“He killed my son.”

A whimper that ripped Steve’s own chest apart and he woke up with a scream.

 ***

“Are you alright, Steve?” Natasha gave him a concerned look across the breakfast table and Steve quickly nodded. “Yeah, sure. Why are you asking?”

Clint snorted and was happy to point out the obvious. “Because you look like shit, man. Did you sleep at all last night?”

Screwing up his face Steve made a vague gesture with his hand. “A little bit. I had a messed up dream.”

Clint reacted with a huff. “Told you, you shouldn’t have eaten that weird traditional Wakandan soup. It smelled like it was about to give anybody some hallucinations.”

Steve was fairly sure that one thing didn’t have to do anything with the other, but he preferred to just nod and change the topic

 ***

Snow was falling. The air was too white to see anything. Steve was freezing and he had no idea where he was. “Hello? Sam? Nat? Anybody?”

No answer. Then a scream.

Whirling around Steve tried to see anything, but there was nothing to see. This had to be a white-out. No edges, no outlines. Just white. If the other person didn’t make another sound Steve wouldn’t find them. He had no idea where to go.

“God no, please!”

To his left. Somebody was calling for help. Turning around Steve started to run, but he got lost in all that white. It was impossible to not lose direction. After taking a single step Steve had no idea where he had been coming from. The man needed to keep talking, his voice was the only thing that stood out.

“Where are you? I’m here to help you! Keep talking!”

“No, please… Oh god, don’t do this!”

The desperation in this voice was too much to bear and Steve kept running, although he had no idea where he was going. Somebody was in pain, in need and Steve couldn’t get to them, which was fuelling his own desperation. This couldn’t be true. He couldn’t be letting somebody down, just because he couldn’t find them.

“Where are you?”

“Please, don’t!”

Steve kept running and suddenly there was a patch of colour in the distance. Red. Stains of red. Steve knew what blood looked like. A trial that led to a person kneeling in the snow, pressing their dead child to their chest.

Not wanting to believe his eyes Steve kept running. He had come too late. Again. “Oh my god, I am so sorry…”

The man was crying, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. His hands tightening around the boy’s shoulder, pulling him closer. Steve felt an overwhelming sickness rising up inside of him when his eyes focused on the wound in the boy’s chest. His shirt had been reduced to shreds, there was blood everywhere. What kind of weapon could create such a wound? Who would do that to a child?

“He killed my son.”

“Sir, who did this? Is he still around? Can I…?”

The man raised his head and bloodshot eyes filled with tears were staring at Steve, accusing him. Stumbling back Steve threatened to fall to the ground when he recognized the face of a former friend. Torn apart by grief and rage. Howard cradled the child’s face against his chest, so Steve couldn’t look at its face anymore. “You killed my son.”

Steve sat up straight in his bed, gasping for breath, his body covered in sweat. Just a dream. Something that didn’t mean anything. Just images that his mind had brought up and put together in some weird… melange.

Tony was fine after all. Nobody had hurt him. Steve was just under a lot of pressure. Stress. Bucky going back under. Settling in Wakanda. His mind was trying to make sense of all of this and… perhaps he was confused. Fortunately dreams didn’t mean anything.

That’s what Steve told his friends when they were wondering about the dark rings beneath his eyes and his refusal to go to bed the next day.

 ***

“Tony, please… No, dear Lord, no…”

Howard looked different. His hair was white, there were lines on his face that were a testament to his age. He was much older than the last time Steve had seen him. Or was it just the all-consuming pain that was twisting his features?

Unable to move or to make a sound Steve stared at him, kneeling on the floor of the old Hydra base. A knot formed in his throat when he recognized the young man Howard was protectively holding in his arms. Tony looked so young. His skin so even and clean. Almost white…

Steve almost choked on his regret when he realised that Tony was so pale, because he was dead. How could that be? Tony could only be 20 years old. That wasn’t true. Steve had only met him when he had already been in his 40ies. No, Tony couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t… Steve was his friend and Steve was always protecting his friends.

“Howard…” Nothing but a hoarse whisper, Steve didn’t recognize his own voice. “What happened? Who did this…”

Looking up Tony’s father met Steve’s eyes and everything changed. Steve had thought that he had dealt with people who had suffered a terrible loss numerous times, but he had never been faced with that kind of sorrow. It was so intense, so visible on Howard’s face that Steve thought he was beginning to feel it himself. Crawling himself of him and breaking him apart.

“How could you do this?” Howard murmured, one of his hands absently stroking Tony’s hair. “He is my son. I am your friend. How could you kill my son?”

What? Steve was losing control over his body, his limbs were growing cold and he barely had the strength to shake his head. “I didn’t…”

“I trusted you! I was looking for you and you killed my son!” Howard was screaming and Steve put up his hands in defence. “No, I…”

“Look at him, look at what you’ve done!”

Howard turned Tony’s body towards him and Steve was overwhelmed by the urge to vomit, seeing the hole that had been ripped into Tony’s chest.

“Steve, what is… Fuck!”

Sam and Clint stormed into his room, later on they told him that he had been screaming. Loud enough to wake them up. Steve was really grateful that they didn’t comment on the situation, but merely helped him to take care of the mess. After breakfast though Sam insisted on talking to him, because having nightmares every night that were intense enough to make him throw up wasn’t normal.

Steve shrugged him off, telling him that he was okay. He would spend the next night drinking coffee.

 ***

The tears were gone. There was no more space for them in eyes that were filled with hatred and rage. “My son! You killed my son!”

“No, Howard, I swear…”

“My only child! You beat him to death!”

Feverishly shaking his head Steve began to plead. “No, you have to believe me, I didn’t…”

“Look at him!”

Steve didn’t want to. He tried to refuse, but his eyes nevertheless wandered to the broken and mangled body in Howard’s arm. There wasn’t much left of the Iron Man armour, several pieces were missing, including the face plate. Revealing Tony’s bruised face. A split lip. Open, but empty eyes, void of all life.

No, Tony wasn’t dead. He had fought against Steve, he couldn’t be dead…

“Look at what you’ve done!”

The chest plate was broken, the arc-reactor had been reduced to hundreds of shards and the blue light was long gone.

“You tried to rip his heart out and when you couldn’t do that, you rammed your shield into it!”

“No, I…”

Howard turned away from him, his demeanour suddenly changing. With almost shocking tenderness Howard laid Tony’s body down on the ground, his hand brushing softly over his hair. Standing back up Howard turned his attention from his son’s corpse to Steve and caused a sensation inside of him that Steve had almost forgotten what it felt like.

Fear

In none of his fights Steve had ever been confronted with such unlimited disdain and hatred. He hadn’t been aware that such sentiment was even possible or that it could have something to do with him.

“You were supposed to be better!”

“Howard…”

“You were supposed to save people, not to kill them! He was my child! My flesh and blood! You killed him with your own hands! You murdered him!”

“NO!” Steve stumbled back when Howard came closer, hands reaching for him. “Tony’s my friend! I’d never…”

“He was my son! Don’t pretend you didn’t see it! His brilliance, his passion! You recognized it and you killed him!”

Steve’s back connected with an invisible wall, he couldn’t get away anymore and Howard’s hands were on his uniform, digging into the fabric. He was so close, Steve could smell Howard’s breath. Rotten. Moist earth and dried blood. It made him retch. “You’d be nothing without me! You’d be long dead!”

It didn’t sound like Howard’s voice anymore. Too raspy and inhuman. Like a person who didn’t have lips. “I made you! I made you this way!”

Blood was streaming down Howard’s face. Part of his skull was missing. Steve could see the bone and he was starting to fight Howard’s grip on him, trying to get away. “Let me go!”

It was useless. Suddenly Steve was so much smaller, he had barely enough power to raise his arms.

“I gave you your strength! I gave you your shield and you used it to kill my son!

“No!” Steve kept screaming, Howard leaned in closer. The blood streaming from his head wound was trickling down on Steve’s face. He could taste it on his lips and he couldn’t breathe. His lungs were shutting down and the last thing Steve saw was Howard Stark’s disfigured face.

Sam needed over an hour to talk Steve down and everybody shared concerned glances. They suggested letting Wanda somehow block his dreams, to grant him at least one night of sleep. That wasn’t going to help. Instead Steve reached for the black flip phone on his nightstand. He needed to know. Just one call to make sure.

Tony was most definitely fine, but Steve had to make sure. Just one word and he would be okay. Steve would be able to sleep.

Nobody answered his call and when Steve closed his eyes the following night, Howard was already waiting for him.


End file.
